A/N: Here is the last main chapter. It is just plain romantic shmoop and farce:D There will be an epilogue to tie up some loose ends & of course a gratuitous sex scene to earn the Explicit Rating XD (If you aren't interested in gratuitous sex that's fine;)

Thanks again to mattsloved1 for looking this over and johnsarmylady for some clarification on All Things British. Any other mistakes are all mine:D

8. Wherever I Would Be?

Performed by Dusty Springfield and Daryl Hall

So. Yeah. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing anymore. It felt a bit like I was in a romcom. Cue the music. And it would be one of those sappy songs that plays through the credits while everyone shuffles out thinking 'Did I actually spend money to see that?' Except there appeared to be no happy ending, I wasn't going to get the guy. This was not who I am! I kept saying I was going to stop this, stop this pretense, but every time I tried, I'd look at Veronica and William and the rest, even that strange bloke, Wiggins, and they'd smile at me or hug me and I'd get this feeling in the pit of my stomach like I belonged. And then, well there was Sherlock. He obviously didn't want me, but if I married Mycroft I could just, you know, at least, see him now and then. That's how pathetic I am. Erg! In spite of best intentions and the road to hell I was on, I got up, got dressed and headed out to the hospital. I would either come home an engaged man because I was too fucking weak-willed to say no or I would come home and look for a new place to live, because once Mycroft Holmes found out I was an imposter, well, I hear Australia's nice.

John squared his shoulders, lifted his head and marched into the hospital. Doing this couldn't be any worse than invading Afghanistan, even though he hadn't gone there alone.

He arrived at Mycroft's room to find, naturally, the entire family waiting.

Anthea stood beside the door, a lovely smile on her face. It did not make John feel any better.

"Come in, John. We have been waiting for you."

Veronica pounced and enveloped him in one of those shock blanket hugs of hers. Mrs. Hudson tried to give him a cup of tea. "No thanks, Mrs. Hudson. Kind of you."

Mycroft's bed had been raised, and he was sitting up, looking rather like he was holding court. He seemed a bit better this morning. Not as pale, which meant he was just below ivory on the paint palette whiteness scale.

"Dr. Watson."

"Mycroft."

"I suppose I should call you John."

"That would probably not be a good idea."

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked in such a dry voice John wished he had accepted the offered cup of tea.

"I think…"

There was a commotion at the door, and Sherlock barged in, coat swirling, curls, flapping. He pointed toward John and Mycroft.

"Stop this wedding!"

"Er, Sherlock, it's not a wedding."

"Stop this engagement!"

"Sherlock, behave. It's not your turn. It's Mikey's. Not everything is about you!"

"Mother, this most decidedly is about me. It's about John and me. He cannot marry Mycroft!"

"Hold on a moment; I wasn't going to."

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Ah ha!"

"I'm in love with your son."

"Oh John, we know!" said Veronica, smiling.

"Not that one," pointing at Mycroft. "That one!"

"Sherlock, what did you do?"

"It's not him; it's all on me. I can't do this anymore. Mycroft, Veronica, William, Mrs. Hudson, uh, Wiggins, I guess, but especially Sherlock, I can't pretend anymore. Mycroft, we were never engaged. I never even met you until the day of the shooting. Gr…someone overheard me say I was going to marry you and misunderstood. I was having a bit of a panic attack at the time, I didn't realize what I was saying. I sort of explained it, but An…someone else thought it would make everyone happier and more able to cope if I pretended to be Mycroft's fiancé. I genuinely didn't want to but everything happened so fast, and you were all so nice and…and it's been a really long time since I've had a family. Before I knew it, I had fallen in love with you. I am terribly sorry."

"You fell in love wif me?" asked Wiggins, surprised and blushing.

John laughed, choked and painful. "No, I mean yes, all of you."

Sherlock spoke to John, quietly, pleading, just so he could hear. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how. Sherlock, I really…it all snowballed. I am truly, truly sorry." He looked at Mycroft. "I may have saved your life that day, but if it hadn't had been for you, all of you…you saved my life that day, too."

More scrambling at the door. "Myc! Don't do it! Don't marry him! I love you!" Lestrade came in, pushed various family members aside, grabbed Mycroft by the shoulders, making him squeak in pain and kissed him. Soundly. On the mouth. There was definitely tongue.

Mrs. Hudson brought around the teapot and refilled everyone's cups while they stood in shocked silence.

Veronica was the first to speak. "I must say, Greg, you have poor timing. Why you didn't ask him years ago is beyond me."

Greg broke off the kiss that was probably melting Mycroft's knees. It certainly was making the heart monitor ping. John was a bit surprised the nurse hadn't come to check.

"But you…you didn't like me. You told Mycroft I wasn't good enough!"

"Mycroft, what on earth have you told this poor boy? William and I couldn't understand why you two had broken it off. Greg, you are so good for him. He's not so, stiff upper lip around you."

William cleared his throat, "Now my dear. I think we should tell the truth here, seeing as everyone's confessing. We said it to get Mycroft to get a move on. We figured he would be so offended we didn't like Greg, he'd up and marry him to spite us. Neither one of our boys ever did do anything we wanted them to. Thought it would light a fire under you, Mikey. You were ever so slow at doing anything. Greg, we are terribly sorry. I hope we can make it up to you. Frankly, I've always thought you were too good for Mikey."

"Thank you, Father, for that ringing endorsement."

"Quite all right. Not sure how you could ever think Greg wasn't good enough. Why just the other day…"

"That will do. Gregory, I am terribly sorry. But why on earth were you pushing Dr. Watson towards me?"

Greg's mouth worked like he was trying not to make a bigger fool of himself and his eyes were soft as he said, "I wanted you to be happy. I thought John was what you needed."

Mycroft cleared his throat, lifted his chin and said, "We've both been fools. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, god yes."

There may have been some more kissing and a few people clearing their throats and looking the other way. Someone decided it might be a good idea for Mycroft to breathe and they tapped Greg on the shoulder. "Oh, sorry." But he did sit on the edge of Mycroft's bed and twined their fingers together.

"Now about John. John? Where did he go?"

While everyone had been listening, John had quietly left the room. No one had seen him go.

Sherlock hurried out to the hallway, but there was no sign of him. He wanted to run after him right away, but Anthea followed him, grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the room.

"We need to talk," she said. She led him back into the room and shut the door.

John packed the last box and stacked it neatly next to the other four by the door. It seemed sad that that was all he had to show. His duffle and his suitcase were also packed, and he'd called his friend Mike to tell him he was ready.

The book Sherlock had given to him had been wrapped and couriered over to his parents' home with a simple note that read,

'I am truly sorry for hurting you and your family.

It was never my intent.

I hope they will forgive me some day.

I hope you can, too.

Yours,

John'

Mike came over, and they loaded the boxes into his car. Shaking his hand, Mike said he'd drop them off at Harry's.

"You're sure you won't stay in London? Just won't seem the same without you here."

"I'm sure. Fresh start and all. Once I'm settled I'll ring you, let you know how it's going."

Mike nodded, but they both knew that wasn't likely. John wanted to slink away, tail between his legs and not be seen again.

Walking to the nearest tube station, bags in hand, he did not see the nearby CCTV cameras move and follow him down the street. The station was busy, and it took him a bit of maneuvering to get through ticket barriers. Again, moving cameras were furthest from his mind as were the one or two pedestrians who were unobtrusively speaking into concealed two-way radios.

Standing, waiting for the next train, he contemplated the last few weeks. He had not heard from Sherlock, not surprising that. He had not even heard from Mycroft, which did make him wonder. He figured Greg would come around banging on his door in the middle of the night and haul him off to who knows where to be interrogated or whatever. He had noticed, once or twice, an expensive looking black car tailing him as he went to the shops, but they never pulled up beside him to kidnap him.

In the distance was the rumble and screech of the next train. He stood staring down that black hole and waited for its arrival. It felt like it was a summation of his life. Oh well. Soon he'd be at King's Cross, board a train to Scotland, and never look back.

Then why were his eyes prickling? He hoped he wasn't getting a cold.

"Excuse me, but you seem to have forgotten this. It was, after all, a gift."

He was pulled out of his reverie by a familiar voice. Sherlock stood there, holding the book out to him.

"Sherlock? Why are you here?"

"I came looking for the man I am supposed to be with. Have you seen him? Short, kind smile, devastatingly handsome, bit of a ludicrous situation he's found himself in. He seems to think running off to Scotland is a viable option."

"I…I…I…"

"So you keep saying."

John looked around, at the floor at the ceiling anywhere but at Sherlock. With a shock of surprise, he saw Veronica, William, Mrs. Hudson, Wiggins and Anthea all standing back and smiling at him.

"But I…but you…but we…"

"John, I am a ridiculous man. You are also a ridiculous man. Which makes us perfect for one another. Will you please marry me?"

"You're supposed to get down on your knee there, mate."

"Shut up, Wiggins!"

John let his bags fall to the floor. He threw his arms around Sherlock and bent him backward. Sherlock's arms windmilled a bit to gain his balance, and he may have made a soft 'ummmph' sound. It was lost in the exquisite feel of John kissing him, kissing him soundly. A wolf whistle and the sound of clapping may have broken them apart before things got too heated and John ravished him right there on the ground in front of everyone.

John smiled as he looked down at Sherlock, his eyes still prickling.

"I love you, you idiot."

"I love you back."

More claps and wolf whistles, more smooching, more tongue, lots of yummy noises. Eventually, John stood Sherlock on his feet, and the whole lot of them wandered off to get lunch and move John into Sherlock's flat.

The whole time, Anthea followed after them, a serene smile on her face.